Cat ClawI couldn’t help but laugh (or was that cry) this morning at the whole ridiculousness of the situation.

Now every morning my alarm goes off at 05:30 and every morning I get out of bed, stumble into the kitchen and immediately retrieve the cat pellets from the cupboard and feed our three children who always seem particularly hungry come early morning.

This morning however the Whiskas bag still had to be unsealed as I had finished off the old bag last night and so I grabbed the scissors from its sheath and got to work snipping the top of the packet off. However, doing something that involves delicately cutting along a fairly straight line is not as easy as it sounds when you are being harried and pushed around by a loving, hyperactive kitty in the form of Achilles. Fearing for his safety (because I’m obviously still in a fairly dazed and sleepy state, plus without contact lenses in or glasses on), I brush him aside – the exact point at which the ‘shit hit the fan’ so to speak.

(At this point, I would also like to reveal that I’m seldom clothed at this stage of the morning, a fact that will reveal its dire importance in the next few sentences).

So anyway, as I briskly nudged Achilles out of my cutting area, the little fella unfortunately lost his footing on the kitchen counter and basically fell over the edge. Naturally he flung out his little paws, claws and all, to save himself and yes, naturally those claws did manage to find my unprotected member.

To quote the legendary There’s Something About Mary: “We’ve got a bleeder!” :)